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Edited on Thu Jan-27-05 05:34 AM by Stealther
Don't bother welcoming me, because I'm a long-time DUer.
The fact I've created a new login, 'Stealther,' ought to suggest something about the kind of life I've chosen to lead.
In the early 1990s when, coincidentally, I was in my early 30s, I came to two revelations. One wasn't really news at all--that for as long as I could remember, I'd wanted to be female. Not just 'want' either, because hell, you can -want- a nice glass of chardonnay or a pizza (or both). I'm talking the kind of hopeless, sick longing that turns you inside out.
Imagine the worst crush you ever had on someone, and multiply that feeling by a hundred.
Now then, imagine also being smart enough to know that this whole 'sex reassignment' thing is simply crazy. Or that every story you've ever heard about some transgendered person was either played for laughs or ended up tragically. And that just about every supposed transgendered person you ever saw looked... well, fake. Or especially for the male-to-female types, like a guy in bad drag.
A sensible person concludes that in a perfect existence, there'd be a way to express yourself in the gender you feel you ought to have been born in. But not in this lifetime.
So the whole thing becomes a desire you have -- but really wish you didn't. And if you were me, you just tried to go on with your life, doing the things you thought you should do, and trying to convince yourself to want the things you thought you should want. You marry. You have a career. And most of all, you never EVER tell anyone about these desires and dreams that haunt your existence. Not even your wife.
That first revelation I mentioned? One night, after weeks of reading the stories online about a number of people who'd wrestled with exactly the same issues I'd had all my life -- but never mentioned to a single soul, I realized I was transgendered.
And the second was that transition to being female wasn't as impossible as I'd thought. For whatever reason, I decided to see what I'd look like, if I actually dared to drop the male facade. Seems stupid, it took seeing myself in the mirror -- wearing makeup and all the rest -- to realize I didn't look like an idiot or a crossdresser. And more importantly, that I wanted to look that way all the time. That this was the face I wanted to present to the world--because it felt like my real one. It was the male me that felt fake.
It took some years longer to go through the whole transition process, but the more time I spent on the path, the more right it became for me. Heck, my own brother told me he wasn't at all surprised. Friends and colleagues were supportive. I was very lucky for the most part, with a few exceptions.
I lost my wife, and except for that brother, the rest of my direct family. None of them could deal with the 'new' me... and I was sorry for that, but I felt I had no choice but to go through with this. Maybe one day we'll build those bridges again, but for now, they don't want to have anything to do with me, and I'll respect that.
So, I went through the process: Hormones, the required psychotherapy to make sure I wasn't a loony, the required year of full-time living in my target gender -- I did it all, by the book.
Of course, I did have one huge advantage: Right from the very start, I passed for female perfectly. That's no boast or exaggeration either. (Neither is it an exaggeration that after a short time, I began to have to deal with rather ardent attentions of heterosexual males... and as a surprisingly attractive 30+ woman, didn't really have the social tools to deal with sudden popularity. But that's another story...)
I had the reassignment surgery in '96, by one of the leading experts in the field, Dr. Menard of Quebec. Within six months, my rearranged parts were working just fine--up to and including full sexual relations. I've had gynecologists marvel at the quality and anatomical accuracy of the work. For the purient among you, yes, this means I can and do have orgasms. Furthermore, with a skilled lover, I often have multiples--which is something that never happened in my previous life.
I use that term quite deliberately, too: "Previous life." Because after a time, I really began to tire of the explanations. Of people meeting me, and literally seeing their opinions change when they learned of my past. Or of those men who actually pursued me -because- of it. I found it distasteful.
See, one of the most important details about being transgendered -- from my angle of it, as a post-transsexual -- is that we don't want to be TS or TG at all. We just want to be that other thing, which biology denied us. Nothing more.
And so, like many, I did as many do. I dropped my contacts in the TS/TG support communities. Stopped having much to do with those folks at all. Soon, I also invented a whole fake past, to explain some of the anomalies in my history.
In my life, there's only one with whom I have regular contact who knows -- and she's my lesbian partner, who accepts me as who I am, despite my origins (I'm actually Bi, and don't really give a damn about the gender of my lover; love is love). My doctor knows. And a trio of friends. Nobody else.
Those of us from that TS/TG community call it "going stealth." In other words, given some of us pass well enough never to be figured out, we literally disappear into society. We become that nice, bearded fellow with the young-looking features down the street. Or the tall, statuesque woman with a taste for good chai.
Or, in my case, the petite long-haired gal with a fondness for nice clothes, and who isn't afraid of power tools. (The guys at the hardware stores love me.)
To answer your question more precisely, Dark, it's all of those things.
Did I acknowledge it early on? Yes, I did. I remember this desire as early as the age of six. I also, early on, concluded it was an impossible desire, and so I tried very, very hard to shelve it forever.
How is it? Mostly it was this overwhelming desire to have been born female, and a sick despair that it not only wasn't so, but that I couldn't do anything about it. (Popular culture and its stereotypically ugly and unflattering portrayals of TS/TG people did NOT help in the least. Seems people like me either are sad, sick misfits... or we die tragically. Murder, AIDS, suicide... they never tell stories about those of us who are well-adjusted, healthy, and living happy lives.)
Despite believing these (mistaken) notions, too, I still couldn't set aside the wanting, either. The believing that somehow there'd been a mistake somewhere--that either I should've gotten a female body, or else be freed of this seemingly irrational desire.
I'll be honest: Those revelations also came at a time when I began to wonder if I shouldn't just check out. Hope for a better turn on the reincarnation cycle--with a note to that higher self, 'Don't pick male next time, you idiot!'
I felt it and knew it, both.
Picking transition was literally a life-or-death decision for me. Going stealth, a year or so later, finished the process.
And now, sometimes days or weeks go by, often longer, where I forget I even had that other life, or was called by another name.
Hope this helps.
best, Stealther
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